


Frater Amandi

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cunnilingus, Demons, F/M, Multiple Penetration, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: She had come to his domain, seeking to avenge herself on the demon who had taken her mother.  That had been his father, actually.  With her at his mercy, he has such plans...
Relationships: Half-Demon/Demon-Hunting Half Sister
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	Frater Amandi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).

She struggled so beautifully in his grasp.

This tiny, insignificant human had come to his domain to kill him. And she had damn near succeeded; she was tenacious, knew plenty of lore he was shocked humans still possessed, and now he had need of so many new vassals after she had slain her way to his home. She fought far beyond what he thought her pathetic mortal body was capable of, and the wounds she'd given him were still closing. But she was his now, to do as he pleased with.

He had a feeling he would be quite pleased with her.

“Tell me, creature, why have you disturbed me in my home?” He could feel the rapid beating of her heart against his clawed thumb. Her nails tried to dig in through scaly, armored flesh. “I don’t suppose you simply took a wrong turn to reach this plane.”

“I am here to kill you.” She said with supreme confidence. She _had been_ here to kill him. She failed, and now he had her by the neck, intending to start trying to domesticate her.

“And why would you wish that?” Was there a human order dedicated to his death? Had she meant to avenge herself on some other demon and mistakenly ended up here? Maybe she did seek vengeance on him--he'd love to know what he'd done, if only to hold it over her head. Or maybe she trying to steal his power—humans had been dumb enough to try that before. "I would know your motive, so I could mete out an appropriate punishment for your trespass."

“When I was a child, my mother disappeared. Nobody believed me when I said what I saw; the fires, or that sigil.” She snarled, her eyes darting to a tattered banner hanging against the wall, his father's sign. “I dedicated my life to finding out what happened; learning everything I could about the occult, and how to fight it. So I could kill you, Kra’ghul the Evorsor”

Oh.

_Oh_.

He began laughing, hard and low from all his mouths. Very hard; his three eyes closed he nearly set her on the stone floor of his home as he doubled over. He laughed and laughed, and saw the surprise on her face and laughed so much harder—that face, he should’ve recognized it; she was younger yet more severe looking, had more force than that face in his memories. But the resemblance!

“What’s so funny, beast?” Part of it was just the mistaken identity. He knew humans had images of his father in their grimoires; and it should have been apparent he was not Kra’ghul. He stood on two legs, had only three wings, and honestly resembled a human as much as he did his father. But this, there was something even _better _here.

“Kra’ghul was my _father_. It seems I completed your vengeance for you,” He gestured to the long, horned skull he had mounted above the archway to his bedchamber. That was a battle; no matter how close this woman had come to killing him, usurping his father’s domain had been so much more perilous. "And you are called what, daughter of Laura Smith?”

“Mary” She said, with contempt. She didn’t ask how he knew her mother’s name, which was briefly disappointing, but at least he had a name.

“Ah, Mary! It is a lovely name, I think I will let you keep it, my pet.” She wasn't going to learn his name. 'Master' would suffice, and after all, names could be a very dangerous thing for others to know.

That prompted her to strike at him angrily; after he had disarmed her of that enchanted sword, and her various holy implements, her ability to meaningfully resist was gone. He still allowed her to play at it; maybe it was just his mixed ancestry, but human stubbornness was just an endearing trait.

She dug in her heels and kicked and swore as he hauled her to his bedchamber. A trio of his consorts perked up as he approached, raising from his bed. Long ears perked up, a multitude of eyes shone and tails twitched. “Master… a new…”

“Leave us. I will leave her in your care later, but tonight…” He ordered. Claws skittered against the stone as they left. He did catch the jealous glances at Mary, he could feel their desire to violate and punish a newcomer. They would definitely play a role in Mary's education. “…tonight will special.”

Her skin was not perfect and unmarred—she was scarred across her back and sides. Claws or blades, a burn on her outer right hip. His vassals weren't the first demons she slew, she had experience. He was almost proud she had overcome so many human shortcomings as she readied herself to kill her father. She kicked and thrashed all the way as he stripped her, until he caught both her wrists in his hand and pinned her to the bed. She glared up with him in hate.

“What burns you more, my pet…” He asked. “…that you failed to avenge your mother because I killed Kra’ghul first, or that you will follow in her footsteps as a demon’s consort?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Oh, crass vulgarity. She had no options, no chance to hurt him. It was odd humans found fornication such an insult. She was so defiant; he supposed it was time to let her know.

Ignoring her insult, he stroked her cheek with the blunt side of one of her claws. “My father said my mother was the most beautiful of his humans; always that ‘Laura’ was his prized possession, and it pained him so to trade her to the render of souls to expand his domain.”

Mary’s eyes opened wide. His sister looked so much like their mother when she was shocked. There was a nostalgia there.

“I believe I have an even greater treasure here.” His mother was chattel, he knew it, but wasting her life like his father did had convinced him that the old demon was foolish enough to supplant. He had been right. Now, with his older sister? He would not repeat that mistake.

She began to plead as it sank in. If he was her half-brother, brother, this wasn’t right, he couldn’t do this. Human conceptions of right and wrong—he'd rutted with enough other spawn of his father that the only novelty in this was that their relation made it worse for her. It was interesting that now this had been what disturbed her enough to beg, not the prospect of him raping her. She kicked, and then when he let go of her arms to spread her legs, punched and struck. When his tongues ran across her belly and down, she repeated. “Please, no.”

When a tongue slid in, she started swearing. That fear melted back into rage and hate. He had to let her leg go to keep her from striking at his eyes. She swore and threatened and kept it up as he talked to her—one of the benefits of having a second mouth in his throat. She tasted wonderful, and my, weren’t those threats and insults sound plaintive?

“Silence!” She half-ordered, half-whined. He’d had humans before, men and women. Never here, in his home. Always in a darkened forest, as a sacrifice—surprisingly, oftentimes a willing one. He’d have his pleasure, but found that humans made such beautiful music with the right prompting. Her protestations became less and less coherent as her voice raised. Moans and frantic pleas to stop were lovelier than expected.

She certainly wasn’t silent when he drove her over the edge.

“It seems like you enjoyed that, _sister_.” The emphasis on that last word was critical.

It was such a small taunt, but it brought her right back to shame and hate, like all of that stimulation was immediately forgotten. And her taunts again dissolved as he worked her over, trading barbs that turned into moans that turned into wails. Over and over. She looked, sounded, tasted amazing as he wrung orgasm out of orgasm. By the time her limbs went slack; one weakly clinging to one of his horns, and her body was covered in sweat and she couldn’t muster her rage, he pulled his mouth away from her.

She looked up at him, forcing a scowl as she looked down between his legs. He caught that little flash of her eyes widening when she looked down between—none of his previous humans had quite expected him before. She had his full attention, and his arousal was dripping from all of the appendages. She opened her mouth to speak some sort op protest, when he grabbed her, dragged her to a sitting position, and forced a cock into her mouth.

He let her know she was terrible at sucking cock as she gagged and gurgled as he forced his way in. She madly pounded and thrashed as he chided her, after he had been so good to pleasure her she could try more _effort_. As he fucked her face and kept her from breathing, he let her know she would need a lot of practice, but he believed in her. His sister could definitely learn.

Cumming was simply a matter of his persistence, rather than her skill. She was left coughing into the stains in his mattress when he pulled free, before gasping in feebly.

She managed some more, hoarser, pleading and threats when he lined up with her cunt. And ass—he had for both of her holes, more than enough actually. There wasn’t any easing in—just shoving as she howled. She was exquisitely tight, and her cry was lovely.

He drove into her with a relentless pace, commenting that if she had ever had a human before he clearly couldn’t measure up. He kept silent about how much she resembled their mother after father trysted with her. He knew this wasn’t terribly comfortable for her, but he’d been plenty considerate of her before. She’d learn to crave this.

Indeed, some of those howls were more plaintive than pained.

He pulled his cocks free, observing how she looked at her snatch, at the cum leaking out, then at his face, in horror, hate, maybe even a little lust, which only horrified her more. Almost as much as when she glanced down and saw he was still quite hard.

By the time he was well and truly spent, long into the night, she was facedown silent, limp. He pulled himself free of her and let her drop, boneless. He rolled her onto her back and just appreciated her. That body, strong for a human, but still so frail. Her lovely, familiar face. Utterly helpless and covered in cum.

She looked perfect like this.

When she woke, he hoped she’d be cross. He wanted to see that fire, to see how long it lasted—he wanted her to resist, to think that she could get revenge, that she could lash out. He let himself picture her, unruly among his other consorts. Resisting and having to be disciplined. Still thinking she was anything other than _his_.

He dragged tongues across her face, forced them into her mouth.

“I do love you, sister.”


End file.
